


Your Debt to Me

by redbirb



Category: Batman (Comics), DC Comics, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Damian, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alvin Draper!Tim, Lil Matches!Damian, M/M, Matches Malone!Bruce, Mob Boss!Bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbirb/pseuds/redbirb
Summary: Alvin Draper is a punk who just got himself in a bad pickle. Lil Matches decides to pay his debt... but not without a price.





	Your Debt to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Lil Matches!Damian/Alvin Draper!Tim (DamiTim)
> 
> Not sure if I'll make this into a series or give it at least a sequel. If it gets enough response and requests then maybe.

Alvin Draper is a punk.

That is Lil Matches first impression of the young man. He has four piercings, one on the ear, another on an eyebrow, third the nose and the last on a lip, each a shiny silver that glints when they catch the light. Lil Matches is more interested, however, in the tattoo on the back of a slender neck, black ink swirled in some kind of design ; maybe tribal? He has those dark blue eyes, the shade of indigo, hidden behind dark tinted sunglasses, black hair slicked back.

Alvin Draper, it seems, is in a lot of trouble.

"What do we have here," Lil Matches drawls as he walks closer to where his boys are beating on the guy.

"Nothin' to worry 'bout, boss."

"Yeah, yeah. Just takin' out the trash, ya know?"

"Did my Papa tell ya to do this?" Lil Matches calls off the handy men, comes to a stop by Alvin's head, sticks the end of a spit-shined shoe under a bloody chin.

"Nah, the big man iz busy upstairs. This guy owes a debt he can't pay."

"A debt?" Intrigued he comes down on one knee, taps Alvin's forehead as he speaks. "What was it, hm?"

Alvin, the little shit, finds the strength to lift his head just enough to smirk up at Lil Matches with bloody teeth and lips. "Gamblin'."

"Wit' the big cats," one of the henchmen supplies further.

Lil Matches sighs and stands. He contemplates for a good minute before coming to a decision. He's seen Alvin slink around these parts for the last two months, never causes any trouble, treats people real nice, not a spy (from what surveillance has told him), tips the bartenders well, the girls like him when he's around and Lil Matches has noticed that he's quite the pretty boy.

... what? He never said he wasn't selfish or doing this out of the kindness of his heart.

"I'll pay his debt. Get him up on his feet and take him upstairs."

\---

"Ah, 'ere's ma boy!"

"Papa," Lil Matches greets his senior as his new prize is thrown onto the expensive red carpet ; at least the color will hide the blood stains.

"Whaz this? A new toy?" Matches Malone casts an interested gaze onto the young man on the floor by his feet. "I seen ya round, haven't I? Yer the scrawny kid that chatted me up a' the bar couple nights back. Whaz yer name again? Al somethin' or other?"

A spit of blood streaks across the carpet, narrowly missing Matches. "Alvin."

"Alvin! I know yer face. Question iz... how's ma boy know yers?"

"I cut him a deal. I pay his debt to the gamblers downstairs and he becomes my... servant."

"Savin' lives, ma boy?" Matches shifts the toothpick in his mouth to grin. Amusement and curiosity are clear in those very blue eyes. An unspoken question hangs between father and son : _what did you really gain?_

"I have my reasons, Papa." Lil Matches stays cryptic, is certain his father will lure the truth out of him eventually or hire someone to find out, whichever comes first.

"A'ght, I won't pressure ya. How much iz he worth?"

No hesitation. "Four million."

Two of his father's muscles snort and glower down at the skinny punk on the floor. Of course it's a high price to pay for someone with no obvious benefit. His father will pay, Lil Matches is sure, if only to see how this will play out. Matches hardly blinks or twitches as he snaps his fingers. A woman in a slinky red dress over his shoulder takes an empty briefcase and starts piling stacks of cash inside, all four million needed.

As she does this, Matches leans forward, hands clasped together and elbows on knees. The mob boss raises an eyebrow down at Alvin then turns it upon his son. "I hope ya know what ya paid fer, ma boy."

It's a warning, to be cautious, to play his cards carefully. Lil Matches knows getting between a debt collector and their target is potentially dangerous. In addition, putting in time and money into someone who brings nothing but trouble could bury the Malone reputation ; and insults to the Malone name meant death.

"I do, Papa."

\---

"Nice pad," Alvin whistles as he's lead into Lil Matches domain, a penthouse decked to the nines. He yelps when a massive hound comes to greet them, immediately bristling and barking at Alvin with snarling lips.

"Heel," the mob boss's son commands and, woah, the dog actually listens and obeys. Lil Matches takes the overgrown puppy by the collar, steers him gently to sit at his side. "This is Titus. Ya take care o' him and my pets, take care o' my crib and I take care o' ya."

"The servant thing was... uh, serious?" The other nods and _fuck_. "For how long?"

"Until I say so."

Alvin keeps his mouth shut, isn't stupid enough to argue. The kid just paid four million for his life, if he hadn't then he'd be either buried alive or rolled in an old carpet and thrown into the ocean right about now.

"Do I have to clean?" A nod. "Shit." Alvin looks at Titus. "I hope your shits don't smell."

They do.

\---

Lil Matches is watching him clean, scrutinizes the way the feather duster trails over priceless ornaments, squeezes into the tiny spaces between furniture. When Alvin bends over, he feels eyes on his ass and - _oh_.

"Is this why you bought me," he teasingly wiggles his ass just for show. "Because you like me?"

He gets a familiar tutting, something he realizes is a habit of Lil Matches. "Ya think yerself a pretty thing?"

And Alvin **knows** the fact to that, that he has a pretty face, a slim body, the twink type. He's used it before, against people, sex is just another weapon, he's seen girls use it all the time to swindle dollars from men. It's taken him a few days but now he sees why Lil Matches had paid for him, has him up in this fancy space all by his lonesome.

"You have me up here pretending to be your little housewife," Alvin points out.

He looks over his shoulder to see the other boy glaring. "Ya nothin' but a servant."

Alvin hums, straightens up and bats those long lashes he inherited from his mother. There's a plan forming in the back of his mind, calculations and motives intermingling and he may be a punk but he's a smart punk. If the mob boss's son wants him for his looks, well, Alvin has played that game before, knows his way around in that kind of scene.

When he approaches Lil Matches sitting arrogantly in a plush chair, he makes certain that his hips sway enticingly. On his way over Alvin takes his time truly looking the other boy over : he can notice the sharp emerald eyes now without the shades and soft-appearing black hair without the fedora. The other boy is handsome, like his father, Alvin pegs him to be at least eighteen, and realizes how tall he is, how strongly built he is. And, _oh_ , what could those calloused hands do to him in the right circumstances?

Alvin gets close enough to reach out and poke Lil Matches's nose, chuckles and leans closer to ghost a kiss against those scowling lips. "We'll see about that."

Maybe he imagined the dilation of Lil Matches's eyes or the shiver down his body, but Alvin was certain he was well on his way to a better arrangement.


End file.
